


i know the sound of your heart

by jamesstruttingpotter



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: As you do, F/M, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-22 21:11:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7454104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamesstruttingpotter/pseuds/jamesstruttingpotter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've been sleeping together for three months the first time it happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i know the sound of your heart

**Author's Note:**

> bellarke + friends with benefits + phone sex + modern AU. there’s a lot happening here, folks. inspired by the 1975′s song “the sound,” specifically that one line that starts with “you call me when you’re bored...” and ends with this fic.

They’ve been sleeping together for three months the first time it happens. 

It’s the Saturday before the first day of school, which means that while literally everyone he knows is either sleeping in or watching TV, Bellamy himself is stuck in the high school he teaches at, attending seminars, goofing off quietly with Gina and Monty while random district representatives drone on about the Common Core, and pretending to be a competent adult authority figure around the older faculty members, some of whom used to teach him back in the day. He’s in the middle of listening to Dr. Tsing’s vicious complaints about her AP Biology students when his phone goes off.

“Excuse me,” he says as politely as he can, interrupting her tirade about gene selection. “I’ve got to take this.” She waves him off impatiently, latching onto another nearby colleague, and Bellamy moves into the next hallway over. He answers the call with a quick, “Clarke? What’s up?”

“Oh good, you’re awake,” she says, in the scratchy voice of someone who barely is. 

He can’t hold back a grin. “It’s one in the afternoon, princess, who isn’t awake?”

“Shut up,” she replies. There’s a beat. “What are you up to?”

“Uh, I’m at a work thing? School’s starting in a few days. I told you about this yesterday.”

“Oh fuck, I forgot.” She suddenly sounds more alert. “Are you busy right now? Did I pull you out of a presentation?”

“Nope, just out of a weird eugenics-y conversation. Helped me out, actually, thanks.”

“Hmm.” There’s another beat. “Where are you?”

“The English department hallway, why?”

“Are you alone?”

“Why?”

She huffs. “Are you?”

“Yes, Clarke, I’m alone,” he says, laughing a little. “Are you about to tell me some top secret governmental information? Because I should tell you, the NSA is probably listening in - “

“I’m trying to get myself off right now,” she says, in her best business-like tone. 

Bellamy nearly chokes on his own tongue.

He actually pulls the phone away from his ear to stare at it, as if the picture of Clarke he has set as her contact information photo will tell him what the real Clarke thinks she’s doing. Then he puts his phone back to his ear. “Uh,” he says, thankful that his voice is keeping steady, “did you need tips?” 

“Just - “ she huffs again, and now he can hear the undercurrent of tension in the sound. “Just talk to me, Bellamy.”

He runs a hand through his hair, shooting a furtive glance up and down the hallway. “Jesus, Clarke,” he says, helpless. 

“Tell me if you can help me out or not, because if not, I’m hanging up and doing this on my own.” Her voice is colored over with mostly irritation, but there’s also faint embarrassment underneath. The latter is what tips him over the edge.

“Hold on,” he says, now deliberately slow. He wets his lips. “Where are your hands right now?”

There’s some rustling, and then her voice filters through from a little farther away. “Well, now you’re on speakerphone, so both of them are on my breasts.”

“Are you playing with them?” He can’t keep his amusement at her aggressively casual tone out of his voice.

“Yeah, I’ve already gotten myself pretty worked up.”

“Fuck, Clarke, so you got yourself started but then pulled out your phone to call me?”

“I wanted you to come over,” she replies. “I want your hands on me.”

“Your hands aren’t big enough, huh?” he says, and she hums an assent. “Fuck.” He slides down the wall to sit down, checking one last time to make sure no one is approaching before turning all his attention to Clarke.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this right now, in the hallway of our _old high school_ ,” he murmurs, and he can imagine the way the corners of her lips are ticking up. “You’re probably getting off on that, aren’t you?”

“I used to think about having sex with you behind that staircase during senior year,” she admits, voice rough. “The one with the alcove behind it? Every time debate practice got boring I would think about it. And then you’d come in from soccer and I’d - fuck, I’d lose it.”

Bellamy’s head hits the wall behind him. “Shit, Clarke.” 

“You’d be all sweaty and excited, leaning over my shoulder to check that my rebuttal was as good as your opening statement. I always wanted to drag you back behind the staircase and pull your shorts off, get on my knees and put my mouth around your dick.”

He groans, the sound muffled into his hand. “You should have. There was no way on earth I was not going to be into that.” She inhales sharply, and the sound is familiar enough for him to sit up straight again. “Have your hands moved?”

“Yeah.”

“What are you doing to yourself?”

“Just playing with my clit.”

“You haven’t started fucking your own fingers yet?” he asks, half-amused. “I’d almost call you a prude, except you called me in the middle of the day to have _phone sex_ while I’m at _work_ \- “

“Bellamy, come _on_ ,” Clarke says, voice rough. “Just - “

“Start fucking your fingers, then,” he says. “Shit, I wish I were with you, I’d get myself off just watching you. I bet you look so good right now, legs spread wide open in your bed, finger fucking yourself with one hand while the other is still playing with your breasts. Are you wet?”

“I - fuck, yes, definitely.”

“I love putting my mouth on your breasts while I finger you. You’re so damn responsive every time my mouth plays with your nipples, like you can’t help yourself. I can feel you getting wetter every time.”

She gasps his name and he shifts against the wall, pants suddenly too tight. “Bellamy, _please_  - “

“I’m coming straight there after work,” he promises. “We’ll go back to bed and I’ll eat you out for _hours_. Fuck, I love putting my mouth on you, holding you down by your thighs.” 

She moans, and he’s suddenly unable to stop talking.

“You’re going to sound so good when you come,” he says. “Fuck, Clarke, I love the noises you make when you’re coming, it’s like you can’t keep quiet no matter how hard you try. And you’re so fucking _loud_ sometimes, it’s fucking incredible - “

A low, familiar whine echoes in his ears, and Bellamy’s hands clench into fists from the sheer effort of keeping still as he listens to Clarke come. 

“Shit,” she murmurs moments later, satisfied.

Bellamy sighs, head falling back to rest against the wall. “You’re a fucking menace, Griffin,” he says, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “I don’t know how I’m going to go back out there like this.”

“I’m sorry I pulled you away from work,” she says, not sounding sorry at all.

“It’s okay, we’re on break. Actually,” he adds, checking his watch, “I better go. I only have a few minutes left to grab something to eat.”

“Yeah, alright. Thanks for the, um, help.”

“Anytime. And Princess?”

“Hmm?”

“I was serious about coming over after this thing ends,” he tells her.

There’s a groan before the call disconnects.


End file.
